


The Things I Never Did

by Sweetheart627



Category: Sherlock (TV), johnlock - Fandom
Genre: 221b, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, One Shot, Slash, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 17:14:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetheart627/pseuds/Sweetheart627
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How John and Sherlock's reunion should have gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Things I Never Did

The night had been going quite smoothly. He had the ring, Mary was sitting there looking beautiful as she always did, and the mood at the restaurant was perfect. But now _he_ stood there. That one person that he had believed was dead for two years stood in front of him, smiling that obnoxious, arrogant, adorable little smile. He stood up and reached out, touching the arm of the tall man. 

 

 

"Two years, Sherlock. It's been two years." John gasped out when his lungs began to shut down in a panic as he realized that this wasn't a dream. His eyes burned with the threat of tears. No, he wasn't going to let this bastard see him cry. He slammed his fist on the table to stop from falling. 

 

Sherlock lowered his head, "I know. I'm sorry, John." 

 

John closed his eyes and tried to take a deep breath. "How...how are you alive? I saw you jump, I saw your body. You can't be alive. You were dead." 

 

Mary put her hand on his arm, trying to calm him down, but John shrugged her off, squared himself up and faced Sherlock like a true soldier. "You let me think you were dead. For two bloody years, you let me grieve and mourn and come to accept that fact that you were dead. I had just moved on. I had just come to terms with it all and now you come back. Why, Sherlock? Why now? Why after two of the worst years of my life do you choose to show me that they were for nothing. There were so many things I thought that I would never get to tell you." Again he fought to hold the tears back. 

 

Sherlock shook his head once before looking up to face his friend. "I came back because I missed you. I came back because I'm needed again. I came back because I was living every day trying to find a way to contact you and tell you that I'm ok. You are the only "friend" I've ever had and I didn't know how much I had become attached to you, how much I needed you." 

 

John stared at Sherlock utterly dumbstruck. Suddenly, he grabbed the detective's jacket and pulled him close. Without even thinking, John crushed his mouth against his friend's. After a moment of shock, Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, holding him for dear life. Mary and every spectator around them gasped in surprise. John finally lost the fight to the tears and sobbed against Sherlock's mouth. The taller man just held him all the tighter. 

 

John finally broke away and buried his face in Sherlock's shoulder as sobs wracked him. The detective leaned his cheek against the top of the doctor's head. "It's alright John, I'm here now. I'm right here. Come on, let's go home." 

 

John nodded but stopped Sherlock as he started to pull him towards the door. He turned to Mary who stood by their table, "I'm sorry Mary. I'm so sorry about this." 

 

She shook her head and smiled sadly, "I knew. I knew that you felt this way. I told myself that I could change you, or that it didn't matter anymore. It ok, John. He's who makes you happy, not me." Mary put her coat on, kissed John's cheek gently, whispered her goodbye and left. John watched her go before placing some money on the table and walking out hand in hand with Sherlock. 

 

Standing outside of 221B, after a very physical cab ride, John unlocked the door and stepped into the building. Mrs. Hudson came out of her apartment to greet him when she saw Sherlock. Her tea fell from her hand, shattering the cup. All the poor woman could do was point and stammer at what she thought to be a ghost. 

 

Sherlock let go of John's hand, for the fist time since the restaurant, walked over to his landlady, and gently kissed her on the cheek. "Hello Mrs. Hudson, I'm back," he said as he smiled kindly down on her. 

 

Mrs. Hudson blushed and cupped his cheeks in her withered hands. "I knew you come back to us. I just knew it. I thought to myself 'He can't be dead. No, not Sherlock. He's far too clever.' And just the other day I was talking to my sister from up in Essex. The dear was coming to check on my with my bad hip and I told her, 'Mark my words, Alma, he'll come home. You wait and see.' And do you know what she said? She said..." 

 

Here Sherlock held a hand up. "I'd love to hear all your news, but I really am quite exhausted. I'll see you tomorrow." With that, he returned to John's side, grabbed his hand and bounded up the stairs. 

 

Up in the old apartment, Sherlock couldn't believe how everything was exactly the same as when he had left, if a bit dustier. He walked over and sat in his chair, relishing in the feel of the cool leather. John looked around confused as to what to do next. 

 

"So...shall I make us a cup of tea?" The only response he got was a grunt and nod from his friend. John chuckled, "Yup, same old Sherlock. You haven't changed one bit." He made his way to the kitchen and began collecting things for tea. 

 

Sherlock watched silently as John got saucers, cups, and a kettle of water. Just as he set it on the stove to heat it, Sherlock walked over behind him and wrapped his arms around the smaller man, keeping him from turning the lighting the burner. He buried his head in the top of John's shoulder. "Ive missed you John. Forgive me. Please, John, forgive me for what I've put you through these past two years. I've missed you so much." 

 

John turned around and looked up into Sherlock's eyes. "Of course I forgive you. How could I not? I missed you too." He leaned up and kissed Sherlock lightly. What really got him was when Sherlock moved that wondrous mouth to his neck. John entangled his finger in the detective's dark curls as soft kisses and licks were placed from his neck to the back of his ear. Sherlock purred against the sensitive pressure point of John's neck, making him gasp in pleasure. 

 

"I'm going to show you just how much I've missed you, my dear John." Sherlock's expression changed from one of regret and sorrow to one of pure mischief. He guided John over to, and sat him down on, the couch. Here he knelt in front of him on the floor and returned to the ministrations on the doctor's neck. As his mouth did its work, Sherlock began removing the trousers and boxers of the smaller man. When they were carelessly thrown on the floor behind them, Sherlock leaned his head on John's shoulder and looked down at the rather hard erection. It was shorter than his own, but thicker. Sherlock  leaned back and removed his shirt, throwing it behind him to join  John's things. Sherlock looked completely lost as to what to so next. "I'm sorry John, I'm not very good at this." 

 

John kissed him reassuringly. "You'll be fine. Get on with it." Sherlock smiled a bit as he took John's cock in hand and began pumping it slowly. His sensitive hands could feel the blood pulsing though the hard member. He licked the tip and all under the head, even the slit, getting a taste of the bitter precum collected there. The detective took a breath and gently put the cock in his mouth, sliding down slowly until it was fully sheathed at the back of his throat. He hollowed his cheeks, sucking the shaft with as much pressure as he could get before he gradually pulled it back out, running his tongue around it the whole way. Again and again he did this, picking up speed and confidence as he went. He got an idea and took the cock fully out of his mouth, much to John's disappointment. He moved lower and took one of the blond's balls in his mouth, much to John's pleasure. He sucked and pulled gently, enjoying how John shivered at the feeling. He somehow got both of them in his mouth and sucked like hell. 

 

John was in complete ecstasy. When Sherlock sucked his balls, his eyes rolled back into his head and he let out a choked cry. Sherlock knew what that meant and returned his torturous mouth to John's cock. "Ahh...God, Sherlock. I can't...I'm going to...mmm...ahh. Please. Sherlock!" 

 

John grabbed two handfuls of Sherlock's dark curls as he felt the orgasm rising in him. He looked down at Sherlock to see him staring back with those turquoise and gold eyes. The look of pure, unadulterated lust hidden in them sent John over the edge. His hands and legs flailed as the extreme pleasure rolled through him like thunderclouds. He cried Sherlock's name and vaguely felt his lover grab his hand and entwine their fingers together. When John's mind had returned to Earth, he looked down to see Sherlock pull the cock out of his mouth and swallow the load of cum that was dribbling down his lips. 

 

The doctor couldn't believe what happened next. Sherlock stood up, stripped himself naked, turned and knelt over the coffee table, presenting his ass to the blond soldier. "Fuck me John. I want your cock inside of me. Please." 

 

John stared in wonder at the man begging him to take him. He knelt behind Sherlock and ran his tongue over his puckered asshole, causing Sherlock to shiver in anticipation. When the area was soaked, John reached around and put three fingers at Sherlock's mouth. "Suck on them." Sherlock gladly did as he was ordered, drenching the fingers for what they were about to do. 

 

After a moment, John pulled them out and ran them over Sherlock's  hole. He slowly pushed one into the detective, making the taller man moan lowly. When he was sure his lover was used to it, John added the other fingers, one at a time, stretching Sherlock for what was to come. As he was prepping the dark-haired man, his fingers ran over a little nub inside of that glorious ass. 

 

Sherlock felt the connection and his eyes shot open as a cry flew from his lips. "Enough John. I'm ready. Just fuck me, please. I need it." He moaned lustfully when he felt John push himself inside. One slow, steady movement and John was fully sheathed in Sherlock's ass. He started thrusting gently, letting the detective get used to it, but all too soon, Sherlock was begging for more.

 

"More, John. Harder. Faster. Come on, fuck me!" John leaned over him, gripped the edge of the coffee table, and fucked the taller man with all he had in him. All the anger, fear, sorrow, grief, and regret he had bottled up the last two years flew from him as he roughly thrust inside Sherlock. 

 

Sherlock felt like he couldn't breathe. His ass burned with fiery pleasure with John's cock filling it. His own manhood was trapped between his body and the coffee table. With every move John made, Sherlock and the table would rock in such a way that his cock was being rubbed and squeezed in all the right ways. The two men's sweat glistened bodies slid together in perfect, heated unison. 

 

With all the pleasurable contact being made, it didn't take long until Sherlock felt John's liquid fire shook inside of him. He moaned and cried as his own cock begged for release. 

 

John didn't let him go unsatisfied. He pulled out of Sherlock and turned the detective over on his back, wrapping those long legs around him. He leaned down and kissed his lover, pushing his tongue into Sherlock's mouth and exploring every delectable inch of it. One hand teased Sherlock's hardened nipples and the other wrapped itself around that long cock. Sherlock cried into John's mouth when the doctor began squeezing it and pumping it quickly. He threw his head back and moaned uncontrollably as his own release finally came. His hot cum splashed between them, leaving a sticky mess that neither man cared to clean. 

 

A couple hours later, the two were curled up in bed, Sherlock laying on John's shoulder. He looked up when he heard his doctor chuckling, "The sofa, the coffee table, the living room table, both of our chairs, the island, the counters, and the bed. How many more places can we possibly have sex?" 

 

Sherlock smiled, but he had a question of his own, "Are you seriously going to keep that mustache?" 

 

John glared at him admonishingly, "Good night Sherlock. And thank you." 

 

"For what?" 

 

"Not being dead. For that one last miracle." 


End file.
